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When I was about seven, my bedroom was at one end of the hall; at the other end was a tall, striated glass window with a streetlight outside.
My bed was next to the door, which was always ajar. I could see the window if I opened my eyes.
Except that, one night, I couldn't. 1/ https://twitter.com/JohnDiesattheEn/status/1320215953729331200
My bed was next to the door, which was always ajar. I could see the window if I opened my eyes.
Except that, one night, I couldn't. 1/ https://twitter.com/JohnDiesattheEn/status/1320215953729331200
Instead, everything was sort of dark - grey and fuzzy. Something was blocking my view down the landing, and of the window.
When I was able to focus - having just woken up for some reason - I realised I was face-to-face with something.
Its head was the thing blocking my view.
When I was able to focus - having just woken up for some reason - I realised I was face-to-face with something.
Its head was the thing blocking my view.
I'd rolled over during the night and my head was right on the edge of the bed - right next to the crack in the door.
About an inch or two in front of my face - level with me - was another face: flat and grey, with dark smudges where its eyes should be.
About an inch or two in front of my face - level with me - was another face: flat and grey, with dark smudges where its eyes should be.
As far as I can remember, I shut my eyes and froze, then sort of retreated under the blanket as slowly as I could. I don't remember falling back to sleep but I woke in the morning and whatever it was had gone.
We had no pets. My parents were already asleep, and hadn't come in.
We had no pets. My parents were already asleep, and hadn't come in.
I still don't know what it was. But I know something was there because I couldn't see the glass and the streetlight at the end of the hall - I was aware of the absence of that light before anything else.
Never did like that house.
Never did like that house.
Since then, I've had recurring dreams where I'm standing at the kitchen sink in that house, washing the dishes.
Outside the window, it's pitch black, so all I can clearly see is my reflection. Behind that, vague, dark outlines in the garden.
I'm standing there and I can't move.
Outside the window, it's pitch black, so all I can clearly see is my reflection. Behind that, vague, dark outlines in the garden.
I'm standing there and I can't move.
On the other side of the glass, smooth as if it's a cardboard cut-out being wheeled across, a tall grey figure appears on the right.
It moves slowly, and I want to leave but I can't. It moves to the left until it's standing right in front of me.
It moves slowly, and I want to leave but I can't. It moves to the left until it's standing right in front of me.
I'm there with my forearms itching, soap bubbles popping on them, cutlery between my fingers, and this tall grey thing is standing there, directly in front of me, with only a pane of glass between us. And it's watching me.
Never had that dream before that night.
Never had that dream before that night.
